Call Me Hunter
by Hotshot
Summary: Hunter is turning 18 tomorrow and he can't sleep.  He's too busy thinking about how much everything has changed and how much he owes to certain people in his life. Rating will change in later chapters.
1. Prologue

Call Me Hunter

Hotshot

1

He couldn't sleep. Despite the fact that he'd been sitting through class all day and working all afternoon he was wide awake, his mind still racing a million miles a minute as it was prone to do.

Hunter made his way downstairs in the dark and turned on the light in living room so he could search through Ben's bookshelf for something to read. The first thing his eyes landed on was a black, leather-bound book; his journal. He picked it up and leafed through the pages. He had been looking for the book for several months, since the day Michael and Ben had said that they wanted to adopt him.

He ran his fingers over the initials as he took a seat on the couch. They were his real initials now, he almost couldn't believe it. Hunter Novotny-Bruckner. James was now his middle name, and as far as he was concerned he could drop it completely.

He was officially their son and as nonchalant as he tried to come off about it the day his adoption was finalized was honestly one of the happiest days of his life.

Tomorrow he was turning eighteen.

Tomorrow he was legally an adult and legally no longer anyone's problem. Sometimes he found himself wondering why they had bothered to adopt him with so little time left, but they actually cared. Ben and Michael were talking about college and how they were going to pay for him to go. He had never even approached them with the question because he certainly hadn't expected them to put him through school. But now they had made it apparent that they weren't just going to send him out and wish him luck as he had once expected them to.

He pulled the blanket on the couch over his lap and opened the journal.

Things had changed so much. Ben and Michael were so different, such better parents than his mother had been. He'd been thinking a lot about that since he had come back to Pittsburgh.

He had been thinking about his mother and his father, and everything that had happened to him. Everything had changed when Michael and Ben took him into their home. He'd become a different person. He'd felt loved and understood, something he had never experienced before at any point in his life. Sure, they could be equally embarrassing and uncool, but they supported every decision he made and they loved him despite how fucked up he was.

He'd never, in so many words, told them that.

Sure, he had slipped up and called both of them 'dad' once or twice or said something that could be synonymous for 'I love you' but he had never once tried to express how greatly he appreciated everything they had done for him.

It wasn't fair.

They had risked a lot to help him, and he still had yet to swallow his pride and say something to thank them.

Even more than his guilt over his love for Ben and Michael, his feelings of hatred toward his own parents were welling up. Their relationship had been in no way loving, and their feelings toward him obviously left something to be desired.

Especially after viewing the relationships of this extended family that Ben and Michael had built around him he felt the shift from one part of his life to another significantly.

And now, sitting there, with the pen in his hand he just needed to get it down on paper. He needed to write about the change so that he could tell people, so that he could remind himself that there were good people out there, who cared about you regardless of how bad things got, or how many times you screwed up.

Maybe this could be it. Maybe this could be the way he showed Ben and Michael how much he loved them.

He opened to the first blank page in his notebook and simply began to write.

1

A/N: Yay, a piece about Hunter. I don't think I've seen one yet on ffn, although I could be wrong because I haven't done that extensive a search. Anyway, this is definitely a work in progress that I plan to finish. The chapters will be a bit longer than most of my work so far and with going back to school I'm not sure how much free time I'll have to write but it will be worth it.

Hotshot


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Oh, forgot this last time. No mine. Property of Showtime, CowLip, etc.

Call Me Hunter

Chapter 1

Hotshot

1

As far back as he could remember there had been fighting. It seemed that his parents had always hated each other. Even as a child he couldn't even fathom the idea of them being remotely romantic.

His father worked as a mechanic at the same garage he'd worked at since graduating from high school. His parents had been young when they had gotten married and it had evidently been an uphill battle all the way. While his father was obviously the bread winner for the family his mother couldn't afford not to work. So he spent countless afternoons tucked away in the corner booth of the restaurant where she worked as a waitress.

To any normal outsider his parents just seemed to be minimally involved with one another and simply lead very separate lives.

Jimmy, on the other hand, saw it all. He understood because every night, after an especially tense dinner, he was sent to his room to entertain himself. As a young child he was grateful to go, to get away from the yelling and the anger. Eventually, however, he began sitting in the doorway to the hall and just listening, just trying to understand.

It started almost every night, over work, over finances, over the fact that James wasn't spending enough time with his son, over the fact that Rita should be working more hours, and over countless other topics.

He felt as though his mother was the instigator more often than his father. She was always asking why he wasn't going up for a promotion, or why he wasn't moving to a garage that would pay him more.

For the time his father spent at the garage Jimmy sometimes thought that his father hadn't wanted him. As a few years passed he recognized however that, on the nights his mother came home drunk or heavily drugged, his father worked hard to keep him away from her when she was in that state. He wasn't stupid by any means, and where he grew up he knew more about drugs from personal experience than from school.

1

"So what are you doing after school today?" Kyle asked him as they sat at lunch, two eleven-year-olds who should have had nothing more on their minds than what they were going to be doing at recess.

"Don't know?" Jimmy said, "Probably going home and trying to finish my homework."

"Jimmy. C'mon man, that's boring. Let's go to your house after school. We can get something to eat and play basketball at the park."

Jimmy fell quiet, chewing on a cold fry. It was Thursday, his mother's one day off from work. When he got home she was usually half-cocked and stoned out of her mind. His dad would be home early, but bringing someone else over would be a mistake. He could already hear the lecture.

"Jimmy?"

"Huh?"

"Well, yes or no."

"Oh," he shook his head, clearing the cobwebs, "We can't. My mom isn't going to be home and I'm not supposed to have anyone over unless she or my dad is there."

Kyle sighed.

"What about your house?" Jimmy asked. "It's just as close to the park as mine is."

He reached across the table and snatched one of the cookies out of Kyle's lunchbox and pulled it back to his side of the table before Kyle could stop him.

"And your mom makes the best cookies. Plus she's hot." He knew the comment would piss his friend off, just as it did when their other friends made them. The 'your mom' jokes were going through their rotation of popularity this generation.

Sure enough Kyle shook his head, "Isn't it a little early for the 'your mom' cracks?"

"It's never too early," Jimmy grinned cheekily at his friend and took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie.

"Fine, we'll go to my house, but you have to behave yourself."

Jimmy gave a look that feigned innocence, "Who me?"

"Asshole," Kyle laughed, throwing a straw wrapper across the table at him.

Jimmy smiled to himself as he finished his lunch. It was times like this, when he could forget about all of the shit going on at home, that he really felt happy.

1

Jimmy bounced up the stairs later in the afternoon, but his steps immediately slowed when they reached the floor his family lived on. He could hear the yelling from the end of the hall, and feel the tension in the air along with it.

He unlocked the door and let himself inside, bracing himself for whatever had been going on before he entered.

"And where have you been?" His mother's voice was harsher than usual.

"The park with Kyle," he replied simply, not quite sure what the problem was as it wasn't all that unusual an occurrence.

"So it didn't seem to you that your parents might be worried. You could have called!"

"Rita, leave him alone," James snapped from the kitchen table where he was looking over some of their bills.

It was also _that_ time of month, which, quite honestly, explained a lot.

"He needs to be more responsible."

As his mother stepped closer to him Jimmy could smell the alcohol and he took a step back toward the door. She was too distracted to catch the movement but his father noticed it, understood it.

"Yeah Rita, because you're obviously an excellent example of responsibility."

He motioned Jimmy out of the kitchen and Jimmy gratefully dodged past his mother and down the hall.

"You know, you can't just send him to his room over everything," Rita snapped as he was reaching his bedroom. He stepped just inside the doorway and left the door opened so that he could listen.

"He's getting older, James. He's nearly a teenager and pretty soon he's going to stop listening to you and me and make his own choices, fuck up his own life, and we're not going to be able to say we gave him the good advice that stopped him from doing so."

His father grunted, "Well hopefully he doesn't make the same mistakes we did. We can only hope he'll steer clear of the alcohol and the drugs that you seem so intent on keeping a constant in your life and-"

"James!"

His father ignored her and went on, "And God forbid he ever thinks he wants to get married and have kids."

There was dead silence for a long moment.

"Are you saying you wish we hadn't had him?"

"Of course not." James replied immediately, "He's my son, I love him. But think about it, Rita, if you hadn't gotten pregnant do you think we'd still be together?"

"You act as though the whole thing is _my_ fault! And if I'm not mistaken it was _before_ I was pregnant that you proposed."

The floor creaked as his father paced the living room, "We were young. I'm just saying, if we had waited I don't think that we'd be where we are right now."

"Do you want out?" His mother sounded oddly sobered up, as though this conversation had been dwelling for a long time. It probably had.

"Rita…"

"No, I mean it. If you want out, all you have to do is say it."

"No, I'm right where I want to be," James said, but it was strained, "I want to take care of our son and I want to be here with you. I just wish things worked better. I wish things were going better at work. I wish things were better between me and you. And for fucks sake I wish you'd stop drinking so goddamn much and pumping yourself full of those fucking drugs. It may have been cool when we were younger but honestly, you're getting a bit old for it."

There was the sound of skin on skin contact, followed by a very long, deafening silence.

"Exactly what I was talking about. Thanks for the reminder Rita. Now, I am going to go get us some dinner and I suggest you calm yourself down before I get back."

The door slammed shut behind him as he left the apartment. Jimmy quietly closed the door to his room. So much for avoiding the tension for twenty-four hours.

1

It was just after school started up again that fall that the first, of several, life-changing moments began the downward spiral of his teenage life. As they sat around the dinner table his parents began talking. Or rather, his mother started pointing out problems.

"I need to get another job," she said, although she was exhausted from her third double of the week, "The waitressing just isn't making me enough anymore. Either that or you need to go up for that management position. You told me Nick's leaving at the end of the month, and there is a sizeable pay raise."

"We're doing fine," James didn't look up from his plate, not really wanting this to turn into a full-blown argument.

"Yeah, we're getting by," she agreed, "But Jimmy is going to need new clothes in the few months, and in case you didn't know those do get more expensive as kids get older. And as for that hunk of junk you call a car, I'd be surprised if it makes it to Christmas."

"And you need more money to support your habits," he added on, dropping his utensils to his plate.

"Don't give me that bullshit James," What he had said was true but she was trying to push it aside, to focus on what she could make him understand their need, "We can't live like this forever. Think about your son."

Jimmy hadn't said a word the entire time. He hated this, when his parents used him as a bargaining chip in their arguments.

His father sighed heavily and looked over at him. If there could be one thing said about James Montgomery, it was that he always take care to make sure that his son was not involved in their fiercer arguments.

"Jimmy, go to your room," he said. He knew there was an argument coming and he really didn't want his son to be pulled into it.

Jimmy didn't say a word, just took a final bite of his dinner, got up and left the room. However, he didn't go all the way to his room. He closed the door from the outside and leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen. With the tension that had been building since he had gotten out of school the previous year something was going to happen tonight.

There were no words exchanged for several minutes and the only sound that could be heard was his father clearing the plates and piling them in the sink. It was silent so long that Jimmy almost considered retreating to his room

"We can't avoid this conversation forever," his mother finally snapped.

"I have no problem going up for that promotion Rita," he sighed, "At least, I wouldn't if I didn't know you were just going to spend the excess on coke and alcohol."

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole."

Rita's attitude tended to quickly change when she was angry, "I am not- I do not need that shit. Your son, on the other hand, is getting more expensive as the months pass."

"I know," James said, "And I wish I could believe you, but I don't."

"Get off your high horse, you asshole."

There was the sound of dishes being jostled as his mother continued to speak, "If memory serves me correctly you're not up for parent of the year either, and you're not exactly clean."

"Rita," James snapped, "Stop waving that thing around."

Jimmy couldn't tell what was going on and he snuck closer to the doorway.

"Help me take care of our son, James."

"Fine, I'll take that promotion and I'll take care of him. You can put all of your money toward your bad habits."

The sounds of a scuffle echoed into the hall and Jimmy didn't dare sneak any closer for fear of what he might see. There was a pained cry from his father followed closely by the sound of something hitting the ground.

"Bitch!" James Montgomery's voice was loud and angry.

Jimmy peered around the doorway to see the knife on the floor and his father holding his bleeding arm.

"Serves you right," she snapped, but her voice shook. At the same time the look in her eyes was almost daring him to hit her and for a moment he looked like he wanted to.

James sighed and grabbed his coat, heading for the door out of the apartment. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Jimmy crouched in the hallway.

With gentleness he seemed to reserve only for his son James Montgomery directed him back to his room and said roughly, "I told you to stay here. Please listen this time, Jimmy. Do your homework, go to bed, and do well in school tomorrow. Just give your mother some space and behave. I'll see you this weekend."

He kissed Jimmy's forehead and turned and left the apartment.

Rita screamed after him and Jimmy quickly closed his bedroom door, intent on doing just what his father had told him. Somehow he knew all of his dad's things would be gone by the time he got home the next day.

That weekend he was sitting at his usual corner booth in his mother's restaurant, going over an English assignment when his father arrived. He was so absorbed in the book that he didn't even notice until his mother raised her voice in the deserted building.

"I don't want it."

"Just take the money, Rita."

"Fuck you," she snapped, "You'll go up for a promotion after you leave. I don't want your money you miserable bastard."

"Then take it for our son."

"_Our son? _You mean my son. He stopped being your son the minute you walked out that door."

"Rita-"

"No, I don't want to hear it!"

He sighed, "Fine."

Rather than just leaving he dropped a thick envelope on the bar between them, "But I'm serious Rita, if either of you need anything, call me."

"Get out," she seethed through gritted teeth.

"Hey Dad," Jimmy called out as his father very nearly walked past his booth without seeing him.

His father stopped and leaned on the table for a moment. "You can always come down to the garage if your mother gets to be too much, okay Trouble."

"Okay Dad," Jimmy grinned as his father patted him on the shoulder and strolled out of the building.

That was the last time he ever saw or heard from James Montgomery.

1

He loved his parents, of course he did. He idolized them as any kid did at his age, and, despite their imperfections, he couldn't just push those feelings away. It sucked when his dad left because the garage he worked at was across the city, far enough away that Jimmy couldn't get there easily.

Rita self-medicated with her alcohol. So, instead of going out with his friends after school as he was used to, Jimmy walked home and did his homework and took care of things around the house for his mom.

He was too young for this, and the feelings he was having over their whole situation were something he couldn't deal with. He didn't know what to do.

1

He came home six months later, shortly after turning twelve, to find everything in their apartment packed into boxes. The only things not boxed up were the furniture.

"Mom!" he yelled.

She appeared in the door to the kitchen looking a whole lot calmer than he was feeling at the moment. She saw him looking around, eyes wide, as he took in the sight of the now-bare living room

"Hey baby," she greeted.

"What are you doing?" he asked, "Where's all of our stuff?"

Rita sighed, "We're moving, baby. Just to a smaller place. We don't need all of this with your dad gone, we can't afford it."

Jimmy's stomach dropped. He'd heard her arguing with the landlord the night before when he came to collect for utilities. He'd threatened to evict them but Jimmy had been certain his mother would be able to pull it off as they usually did.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just outside of Pittsburgh." She said evenly.

"Pittsburgh!?" When she'd said moving he'd expected a cheaper apartment close by, not moving to a different city, away from his friends, and the father he never saw. "What about school?"

"I called the school about having your transcripts sent over. I'm sure you'll be back in school in a few days. Next week at the latest."

"But my friends-"

"You'll make new ones," her voice rose an octave.

She sighed, "We have to do this, Jimmy. It's a chance to start fresh."

He stared at his mother. This was all so easy for her. She could get a job anywhere and had the ability to drive back and visit people. But he, on the other hand, was going to lose all of his friends. Especially with so little notice he didn't know how he could ever get in contact with most of them again. He was going to lose everything.

"He offered to give you money!" he yelled, "Dad would still be giving you money so why don't you just apologize so that we can stay!"

Though she seemed a bit shocked by his outburst her face simply tightened and then quickly softened. She stepped forward and crouched down to his height.

"Even if we did have your dad's money we couldn't afford to stay here, baby. He obviously didn't care enough to stick around or come back and see you."

That stung a lot more than he thought it would, but something in his gut began second guessing his devotion to his father and think that maybe she was right. That was the goal of her saying it, obviously, but he couldn't have known that.

"We don't need his money. We can start fresh, without him. We'll be fine." She fixed his hair, "Now do me a favor and go make sure all of your stuff is packed."

"You're right, Mom." He said, still hurt by what she'd said about his father.

The smile that crossed her face at his agreement showed that she thought it was interesting that she needed the approval of her eleven-year-old son for those important events in her life.

A few hours later found them in their new place, courtesy of a co-worker's pickup truck. They'd never lived in a large apartment before but this one was tiny. There was a bathroom, a bedroom for Rita, and one large, open room that housed the kitchen and the living room. He just stood there, staring around the small space.

"Where am I going to sleep?" he finally asked when his mother stopped moving around enough that he could catch her attention.

Rita patted the dilapidated couch that had been supplied to them by the landlord.

"I know it's not much Jimmy, but we can't afford something much bigger right now. As soon as we can we'll find something better, I promise."

Jimmy simply nodded, falling silent. There was really nothing he could say because it was the truth, and he was just the kid. Feeling slightly dazed he sat down on said couch and just watched as his mother began to unpack their things.

1

A/N: I'm not completely happy with this chapter. I would love to have had it be more of Hunter's thoughts but I think it's appropriate that they become more of the story as he gets older. Even outside of that I'm not completely thrilled with it, but I couldn't really get much more.

And before you ask, yes, Hunter will be referred to as Jimmy for a few more chapters.

Reviews are love.

Hotshot


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Property of CowLip, Showtime,etc.

1

Call Me Hunter

Chapter 2

Hotshot

1

1

Rita's promise was not one of the ones she made to her son only to take back days later. Within a month of moving to Pittsburgh Rita was holding down three jobs and had moved them into another new apartment.

One job was early in the morning on the weekends, helping to unload trucks at a local shop. It paid under the table and the pay wasn't half bad for what it was.

During the day she worked a secretarial job, which brought in the largest percentage of their income. And after that she worked at a diner as a waitress. As he had in Philly Jimmy spent most of his afternoons doing homework in an empty booth.

He barely noticed the rare nights off that she had. She tended to leave him to do his homework and feed himself, returning in the early hours of the morning from a 'night out with the girls' with a wad of cash. What he did notice he made attempts to ignore because he really did not want to try to imagine where that money might have come from.

He could smell the alcohol whenever she drank, and it became much easier to tell how sober she was. That was what he noticed. Without his father around she drank much more frequently.

On one of his mother's rare days off he let himself into the apartment with his key only to hear the tell-tale sound of someone snorting powder.

"Man, that's good shit." The voice was male and unfortunately familiar.

He knew exactly what was going on.

He had started making friends at school, but if he backed out the door, he had no one close enough that he could simply visit to escape all the shit going on at home.

"I'm home," he announced loudly. He slowed his pace but stopped in the doorway to the kitchen when he reached it.

"Hey kid."

The gruff, male voice was Dennis, a friend of his mother's. Jimmy had no idea what Dennis really did for a living, only that he got money from 'his girls' and usually had a steady supply of drugs for his mother.

"Hi," he replied without any of his youthful enthusiasm.

Years later he would realize that Dennis was a pimp and in turn that his mother was doing work for Dennis in addition to everything else, but for now, he was content to be blissfully unaware.

"Hi baby."

His mother was trying desperately to hide the white powder on the table. It didn't even matter. He wasn't stupid.

"I'm going to go and do my homework, Mom." He would get himself out of the way and pretend he hadn't seen so that his mother wouldn't have to worry.

"Okay sweetie."

Before he could move Dennis had taken a few more steps forward and reached down to mess up his hair. It was getting long again.

"How old are you getting to be now, kid?"

"Twelve."

Not caring that he was being rude he pulled quickly out of Dennis reach and walked off to his room. The best thing about this new apartment was that there was a lock on his door. He turned it behind him as he always did when his mother was entertaining and drugs were part of the mix. He could still hear voices echoing down the hall.

"You know," Dennis' voice sounded down the hall, "Jimmy's a pretty cute kid."

"He looks like his father," Rita complained.

"But still…" It went quiet for a moment, the two of them probably kissing, "I mean, if you really need some more money for rent and everything, he could… work."

"Twelve is too young to get a job. He's got another two or three years before he has to do that. No place will hire him, Den."

"_I _have work for him."

Rita was quiet for a moment, "What the hell are you talking about? _Your_ kind of work? He's twelve years old, Dennis!"

"And do you know how many people are willing to pay for that? You've seen the kids out there yourself."

"I don't want my son involved in this shit!"

"Hey, he's got to learn to pay his own way eventually. Kids are expensive, and it's best he learns that fact sooner rather than later," Dennis said, "Think about it. If you're interested give me a call. I've got some work for _you_ this weekend."

"Stop by the restaurant sometime this week, we'll make plans." Her voice was slightly pinched.

Jimmy listened to the silence that stretched on for several minutes and then he heard the front door open and close. He quickly unlocked his door and went over to his bed, making it look as though he had been working as his mother entered the room. He hadn't understood most of their conversation but he didn't want her to know that he had been listening.

She kissed his forehead and petted his hair gently.

"I love you Jimmy."

"You too Mom."

Mostly he ignored her, as he would have under any other circumstances, reaching across the bed for a pen.

She retreated back to the kitchen and he heard the sound of her snorting up more drugs. He'd heard the noise enough. He knew what it meant. He got back up and locked his bedroom door once again.

1

Two days later Rita lost her secretarial job, their main source of revenue. Rita scrambled to find something else and save their money, but they were still barely able to make rent at the end of the month.

Jimmy knew that was going on throughout all of it, although his mother never told him a thing. He also noticed when she started going through withdrawal. Dennis, although he always had drugs, wouldn't give his mother anything unless she could pay for it.

But Rita pushed on. She made _him_ her first priority, paying rent and electric bills before considering drugs and alcohol. She struggled for weeks to find another secretarial job, or something else that would pay just as much. When that didn't pan out she did more work for Dennis, but he wouldn't give her enough jobs to support them.

Jimmy was proud of her. All the things his father had always said she was too childish to do were exactly what she was doing now. She _was_ making him her first priority. She _was_ ignoring her own needs and putting him first. It wasn't just a show to make someone else believe she could be responsible.

And for the first time in his life he felt hatred for his father. He'd left and he wasn't coming back, wasn't giving them the help that he had promised.

They survived and just barely got by, cutting corners where they could. There were expenses coming up soon, however. Jimmy was growing; he needed new clothes. There were doctor's appointments and repairs that needed to be made to Rita's car.

And then Rita's waitressing hours were cut.

One afternoon Jimmy closed the front door upon returning from a friend's house. Rita was supposed to be working at the restaurant until later that night. The smell of alcohol hit him as he neared the kitchen. It was subtle, but he noticed it immediately; there hadn't been a drop of it in the apartment in weeks.

"Mom?" he stopped in the doorway, staring at her as she looked up from her coffee cup. There was a half-empty bottle of something on the counter and an empty glass overturned on the table.

"Sit down baby," she said quietly.

He sat down and just stared at her across the table.

She was quiet for a moment and Jimmy almost though that she wasn't going to say anything. He started to stand, ready to leave the room.

"We're in trouble, Jimmy. We need the money or we're going to get kicked out of the apartment at the end of the month."

"What about Dad?" Despite all the complaining his mother had done about his father since their original move he still felt a thread of loyalty, and his father _had_ offered to help.

"I already called him. He's not interested in helping us anymore," she sighed.

Jimmy didn't know what to say, how he could help any more than he had been. It hadn't been easy for him either. He felt horrible about not being able to work, and had done his best to keep the apartment clean and bring his grades up. He hadn't complained on the nights he had gone to bed hungry or informed his mother that he really needed a new winter coat.

"We all need to work, Jimmy," she said calmly.

He looked at her because they both knew that no place would hire him, "How?"

"Dennis has some work that you can do."

"Mom, no." He still had no idea what Dennis did, but he didn't like the man, and he didn't want anything to do with him if he could help it.

"You need to pull your own weight," Rita snapped, and her demeanor changed so quickly that he was almost certain she had scored some drugs earlier in the day, "Do you know how much it costs to keep this roof over your head? To keep you clothed and the two of us fed?"

He swallowed. There was something he couldn't deny about that.

"What- what do I have to do?"

He felt guilty, as Rita had known he would. She would play off of it because as much as he tried to help around the house he couldn't do anything that would really save them money.

Rita didn't smile as she replied, just spoke in a flat, unemotional static, "You're going to go out to street corners with me, or with Dennis, and go and sit in cars with a few older men."

She swallowed hard. She seemed to be struggling with it only a little, "Let them kiss you or touch you if they want to-"

"I'm not a fucking fag!" he yelled immediately in response. These were the things he was learning in school these days, new words and ideas. Screw times tables and adjectives, there were things that were more important, like understanding the real world.

She slapped him quickly across the face in response, "James Hunter Montgomery, you will watch your language."

His hand had gone to his stinging cheek as he looked at her, too frozen with shock to move. She'd never actually hit him before.

"Of course you're not," her tone softened a bit. "Dennis is going to screen them. They'll give you money. It's only for fifteen minutes and you'll be fine, baby, trust me."

Jimmy nodded and swallowed hard.

"I trust you, Mom."

It was a lie, but honestly, what choice did he have.

1

On Friday Hunter walked out of school to find Dennis' car parked along the curb. The man himself was leaning up against the side of the car smoking a cigarette and ignoring the glares of school officials

"Hey kiddo," he greeted, reaching out to tousle Jimmy's long hair which seemed to be a habit he'd developed.

And as he'd learned to do Jimmy ducked away, out of his reach, "What are you doing here?"

"You start work tonight," Dennis told him, tossing away his cigarette, "We've got errands to run. Get in the car."

He opened the passenger door and Jimmy climbed into the car without argument. Dennis had been hanging around with his mother for a while now and he knew better. There was a temper he didn't like to bring out.

Dennis sped off down the street and Jimmy directed his gaze out the window. He'd never been alone with Dennis before, and he didn't particularly want to be so his goal was to get all of this over with as soon as possible.

At the first place that they stopped Jimmy tried to back out immediately but Dennis grabbed his shoulder and roughly forced him out of the car and into the building.

"I like my hair," Jimmy snapped through gritted teeth.

"Kid, who else your age has long hair?" Dennis asked rhetorically, shoving him into a chair, "Shorter hair makes you look younger and gets you more business. You'll cut it and you'll keep it short."

As they left the building he did nothing but run his hand through his now painfully short hair.

They stopped at the mall next and Dennis spent a half hour picking out clothes. Most of them were too big and not at all his style but Dennis didn't really care and assured him that he would grow into them.

The only good that came of it was the new coat Dennis selected for him. It wasn't particularly heavy, but for now it was warm.

"Look at you," Rita cooed when he came out of his room a few hours later, changed into the clothes Dennis had bought for him. The clothes could add a few years on to how old he looked but the haircut he had took them right off again.

She ran her fingers through his hair, "You look adorable, sweetheart."

He shrugged her off, "Leave me the fuck alone, Mom."

"Jimmy!" she snapped.

He'd only recently picked up the habit of swearing at her and she was trying, and failing, to discourage it.

Dennis, on the other hand, had a bit more of an influence. He reached out and smacked him sharply upside the head.

"Don't curse at your mother," he warned before turning to Rita, "I'll have him home around 12:30."

Jimmy was hoping that his mother wouldn't be able to go through with it, and that she'd back out, or at least say something about Dennis hitting him, but she didn't say a word.

It wasn't worth it to try anything to get out of it himself. Not looking at either of them he shrugged on his jacket and walked out the door ahead of Dennis.

1

"You're a smartass, you know that kid?" Dennis asked after several minutes of silence had passed as they drove.

Jimmy couldn't tell from his tone whether it was meant as a compliment or an insult so he kept his mouth shut.

"I've been watching you, listening to you with your mother. She always talks about all the sass you give her," Dennis continued, "You give me shit and I'll give it right back tenfold, you got that?"

He wasn't stupid enough to mistake Dennis' meaning. He nodded.

"But you've got a big mouth and that's going to work to your advantage out here."

He pulled over along the curb and staring out the windshield Jimmy could already see half a dozen teenagers strolling up and down the sidewalks. He swallowed hard. He was really going to do this.

"When they pull up you call out something like 'You like young dick. For fifty you can suck it. For a hundred you can fuck me.'" He smiled over at Jimmy, "Looking like you do, they'll eat it up."

He couldn't pull his gaze from the window as he watched a kid climb into one of the cars that had stopped. He could hear kids at school, himself even, joking about something like this, but never in a million years could he see forcing himself to actually doing it.

"My mom, she said I wasn't going to have to-"

"No one's going to fuck a kid that's your age," Dennis laughed, "They're going to be too fucking scared of the cops showing up."

He lit a cigarette and rolled down his window just enough to flick away the ash.

"They ask your name, you say Jimmy- make something up if you want, I don't care. No last names, ever. As for your age, don't ever fucking give that out but you have my permission to come up with whatever smartass reply that you want."

Jimmy knew he was trying to be funny but he couldn't just laugh it off. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Dennis leaned across him and opened the door.

"Take your lead from the other guys out there. You'll pick it up fast enough, and I'll be right here in the car watching out for you."

He forced his legs to move and climbed out of the car. He didn't know what it was that kept him from turning around and looking back, but he refused to do so, maybe afraid of looking like a coward, or maybe it was being afraid of what Dennis' reaction might be.

He stopped at the first telephone pole he came to, watching the other boys, observing how they were dressed, and how they stood. He let his jacket hang off of his shoulders a bit, and struck a casual, relaxed pose.

Cars began rolling down the street but he didn't say a word, didn't move. Even as the other young men crowded around the cars, crowing their offers he just stood there.

One car finally slowed as it reached him and the window rolled slowly down.

A voice floated out across the air and he barely recognized it as his own. It felt too disjointed and didn't sound at all like him.

"You like young dick?"

The car stopped and the man glanced down the road where Dennis' car was parked.

Jimmy got it immediately; these weren't going to be random jobs, at least for a while. They were appointments, people Dennis knew. He knew it wasn't the man himself who had chosen to make such arrangements. Dennis didn't care about anyone, not even his mother. These were a favor because his mother did good work and bought drugs.

"Get in."

The voice was rough but he noted that some of the others looked on, envious, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

The man started driving away and Jimmy's heart leapt into his throat, but then he pulled off a bit further away from the group of young hustlers and their yelling.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the man as the car stopped, couldn't even bring himself to look up. His heart was beating so loud and so fast in his chest that he swore the man had to be able to hear it. He was so scared, so tempted to open the door and jump out of the car and just run, but something stopped him. As scared as he was right now he was absolutely paralyzed by guilt. His mother's words echoed back in his head and he made himself stay there.

The man reached over and ran his fingers through the new, short haircut and Jimmy shivered. He was really starting to hate when people did that, and years later he was sure that he would have flashbacks of this very moment.

And then the man leaned over and started kissing him. He didn't know how to react; this wasn't like kissing his parents. So he just sat there limply, letting the man do what he wanted.

And then hands were touching him, roaming under his shirt. Jimmy couldn't help that he was shaking, nervous and afraid. After that point he just couldn't help his nerves and they got the better of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that he was somewhere far away.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man shoved a few crumpled bills into his hand and opened the door for him. The car was gone before he had even closed the door behind him.

He walked back in the direction of Dennis' car but the window rolled down before he reached it. Dennis held up two fingers and pointed back to where Jimmy had been standing.

Two more.

His stomach dropped and he stood there for a moment, frozen on the spot until a car horn honked and he jumped aside to avoid it.

Hours later he handed the money over to Dennis as he got back in the car. Curling his jacket tighter around him he turned and stared out the window, intent to just get back home.

Not a word was spoken between the two of them on the long ride back to the apartment. Jimmy couldn't bring himself to say anything, but Dennis didn't offer words of encouragement or apology either.

Dennis knocked on the apartment door and the second it opened Jimmy pushed right past his mother and bolted toward his room.

"Jimmy!" she called out as he slammed the door behind him. Before she could reach the door he had it locked and was on the other side of the room, curled up on his bed, disgusted with himself, Dennis, and her.

"Jimmy!" he could hear her on the other side of the door, "Baby, please open the door."

"Let him be," Dennis was crossing the apartment after her, "He'll be fine in the morning."

Fine? It was laughable. How could anyone be fine after what he had just done?

"Are you sure? I mean he looked… Christ, maybe this isn't the way to fix things."

"Rita, don't worry about it. He's a tough kid, he can handle it." Dennis assured her, "I mean, you said yourself, he needs to learn this stuff, and stop being a burden."

Rita sighed.

"Here, this is what he made tonight."

They both fell quiet for a moment before he heard them move to the other end of the apartment.

Jimmy curled up tighter on his bed, pulling the blanket around him despite the fact that he was still wearing his coat. He understood it now, how his mother had come to the decision of him needing to work. It wasn't something she had, or could, come up with on her own. It was Dennis, whispering in her ear every time she snorted coke, every time she drank, and every time she was so desperate for a hit that she would follow him around literally begging.

He felt cold, and scared, and horribly, horribly alone. Every fiber of his being wished that he had somewhere to go, someone that he could talk to and actually trust. He was so angry at himself for allowing her to persuade him to do this, knowing now that it had started there was no backing out.

1

1

A/N: Okay, there are more people who have added this story to favorites or to story alert than have left reviews. Does anyone else see the problem with that? Really, I crave feedback more than anything else, and that's supposed to be the purpose of this site anyway, isn't it?

Anyway, I'm sorry it's taken me a while to get this up. Back to school and a lot more work than when I was actually working. I try to put aside an hour a day for writing but this was the last chapter that I actually had most of written out longhand already so the next few chapters may come kind of slowly as well- though I do promise not to ditch this story halfway though as I have with some of the ones in other fandoms.

Okay, enough from me. Hit up the little purple button before you hit back.

-Hotshot


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own them unless you don't recognize them.

* * *

Call Me Hunter

Chapter 3

Hotshot

* * *

The first time he ran away from home was just after he turned fourteen. Ever since that first night his mother sent him out with Dennis three nights a week, more if they were having a rough month.

He'd stayed with Dennis' appointments for the most part, once in a while straying from the norm and turning tricks, and he picked up the tools of the trade from watching the other young hustlers. It made him sick to his stomach to do so, but if he had a bad night there were consequences.

If anything his mother's drug problem had just gotten worse. She'd found another job, one that paid fairly well, but she kept him working to keep their income up, helping them get along easily, with no problems paying their rent or supplying her addictions.

He'd withdrawn a lot. He didn't really have friends at school, at least not a lot that he was close with. After school he came home and hid out in his room, entertaining himself and doing homework. His grades had gone up considerably. A few times a week he would walk to the park and play a pick-up game of basketball, but there wasn't much else.

His life was thoroughly predictable.

His plan, running away, was to get on a bus, go to New Castle, and find his father. He'd heard his mother talking about him a few months before. He had moved there and was working at a new job, one that offered him a fairly good amount of money. It was just a matter of paying for that bus ticket. He'd done the research online, at school, and slowly hidden and saved the extra money some of his tricks gave to him.

His father had to believe him. He had to believe that his son wouldn't lie, not about something like this.

There was a change of clothes in his backpack, and he just snuck out the back door of the school during the change in classes, just before last period. He had art and the teacher never took attendance. No one would notice and no one would care.

All he knew was that he wouldn't have to climb into the car with Dennis tonight, and hopefully he wouldn't have to ever again.

His mother was working at the restaurant and Dennis spent his days on the other side of town. Provided that he could avoid any cops who would accuse him of truancy and make the two mile walk he would be fine.

* * *

-

"Round trip to New Castle," Jimmy said clearly, calmly, as he set the money on the counter, "Return on Sunday."

He'd decided weeks ago that it had to be round trip, so it wouldn't look suspicious. He said it in a bored tone, as though he took the same trip every weekend.

The woman looked down at him, from behind the counter.

"Sweetheart, how old are you?"

Jimmy hated that condescending tone. Adults tended to take it with him, and he'd heard it from his mother and Dennis every day of his life. Every time that they had asked him, or rather told him to do something.

"Fourteen," he replied through clenched teeth.

"You need to be sixteen to buy a bus ticket by yourself. You need to have a parent here."

Jimmy rolled his eyes, thinking on his feet, "Since when? I take the 3 o'clock every other weekend."

"Where's your mom, sweetie?"

"Dropped me off so she could go to work," he covered, "She hasn't come in with my in a while."

The woman was watching him now, suspiciously.

He exaggerated a sigh, "Fine, you know what, I'll go call the restaurant and get her to come back and buy me the ticket. Fuck, she's gonna be pissed."

Without another word he left the line and walked away. He didn't have to be worried yet. He could just get in another line and find someone who would sell him a ticket. But then he turned around to find her still watching him. He cursed.

Walking over to the payphones that lines the wall he mimed inserting a coin and picked up the receiver.

As he had a conversation with himself he watched the counter. Not only was the woman still watching him but she had called over what looked like a manager. This definitely wasn't going according to plan.

There were other ways to get to New Castle. He could walk, he knew the way and it might take him until the next day but he was sure that he could do it.

The next time a crowd of people came by he ducked out the front door. With any luck they would just leave it at that, and not call the cops. As long as he could stay out of sight he would have a few hours head start. They'd only expect him home in time to go out with Dennis, and that gave him a good five hours head start.

* * *

-

It got cold and dark a lot earlier than he had thought it would. The thick coat that Dennis had bought for him a few yeas before was worn now, but it still fit and it still kept him warm enough. He shrugged it on and zipped it up, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked.

It was almost eight, about the time he should be getting home and he was just outside the suburbs of the Pittsburgh. They were going to start looking for him soon and he was pretty sure that meant he should stay out of sight.

He ducked inside of a diner that he'd passed on a main road just after nine o'clock, getting himself a sandwich with the money he had originally intended to spend on a bus ticket and cab fare. He kept his eye on the television, and on the door. He wanted to be ready to bolt if there was something on the news about him.

But then he doubted that his mother and Dennis would do something like that. They would try to hunt him down before they got the cops involved.

If he got sent back now… he didn't want to think about that. It wasn't as though Dennis beat the shit out of him, but he wasn't against hitting him when he fucked up.

And fucking up was clearly becoming a relative term.

There was nothing on the news as he ate. He savored the food because he seriously doubted he would be able to stop anywhere in the morning. By then his mother would have gone to the cops.

"Six-fifty," the waitress told him once he had finished eating. He handed her over the money, plus tip. He'd learned that much from his mother. She'd finally stopped working at restaurants, but he had fallen into the habit of seeing people in that position as being just as screwed over as he and his mother had been.

"Where's your mom?" she asked.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Why did everyone ask him that? He knew he looked young but he hated that way people acted, like he couldn't look out for himself if he had to.

"My dad's picking me up," he told her.

"What're you doing here by yourself?"

He hated people and their questions. The look she was giving him seemed to accuse him of being up to no good.

"Eating dinner."

She gave him a sharp look at that response but he stood up and looped his backpack over his shoulder and walked out the door.

He walked for two more hours, until he started getting tired. He was almost there. He would be in New Castle after an hour or so the next morning. Once he was there all he needed was to catch a cab or find this garage.

This was where his plan hit its first hitch. Where the hell was he going to sleep? He'd wondered about some of the other guys who turned tricks near where Dennis made him work. A few of them were very vocal about being homeless, and he'd just never bothered to ask. Not that Dennis ever gave him the chance.

He was getting so tired that he was certain he could fall asleep just about anywhere. He found himself wandering down between a few restaurants, concerned only with making sure people passing by on the road wouldn't be able to see him. Once he was sure he was adequately hidden he slumped down against the wall and closed his eyes.

* * *

-

Something was nudging against his side. It felt like someone was kicking him.

"Hey, wake up."

It was an adult voice.

Fuck.

He rolled over, glancing upward only to have his worst fears confirmed.

It was a cop.

The guy looked down on him, nudging him again with his foot.

"What are you doing back here kid?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes. He was caught, and he knew it.

"Frickin' ice skating, what does it look like I'm doing?"

A hand was immediately on his arm, hauling him to his feet.

"Alright smartass, that's enough from you." As he started hauling Jimmy out toward the road again he got a good look at him.

"You're that kid they're looking back around Pittsburgh, aren't you?"

Fuck.

Jimmy looked away, trying to pull his arm free. He could walk on his own.

"I'll take that as a yes." He tightened his grip on Jimmy's arm, "Damn runaways."

"I'm not running away; I'm going to my dad's place in New Castle."

"Seems like your mom didn't know about that bit of the plan."

He opened the back door to a squad car and motioned for Jimmy to get in.

He didn't move.

"Kid, I don't want to have to cuff you and make you get in." He let go and gave Jimmy a shove toward the car.

Jimmy climbed into the backseat, wincing as the door slammed closed behind him.

Despite the fact that he knew he'd done nothing wrong he couldn't help but begin to feel terrified as he sat in the police precinct. He didn't even know what town he was in. All he knew was the cop had told him to have a seat and gone off to call his parents.

He pulled he legs up onto the uncomfortable bench and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, trying to fall back asleep or at least stop himself from panicking.

After what felt like forever a different cop walked over to stand in front of him, and Jimmy looked up.

"You know, you've caused a lot of people and awful lot of trouble."

"Spare me the lecture," Jimmy muttered, "I'm sure I'll get a big enough one from my mother."

"She was very worried about you, son."

"Did you call my dad too?" he asked.

"There isn't a James Montgomery listed in New Castle."

Jimmy looked up. _What?_ That was impossible. He had to be there. His mother had said that he was.

"You're lying," he accused.

"No," the cop said, "I'm not. Now, you listen to me. We're going to send you home with your mother today and we're going to leave it at that. But the next time you run away, Jimmy, there are going to be more serious consequences."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Jimmy complained, knowing he was right but he couldn't go into why it had been the right thing to do to run away. That would get rid of Dennis but it would also get his mom in serious trouble.

These words, however, just seemed to piss him off, and he launched into a full out lecture on the responsibility of kids who were Jimmy's age.

He stood there, just listening to it and holding back, as he was so used to at home. He stared straight back at the cop, nodding when appropriate until he heard his mother's rather shrill yell. She had her arms around him before he could even identify which direction she had come from.

It surprised even him when he sank gratefully against her. Maybe he hadn't realized it, but he'd been scared shitless last night and even more when he'd gotten hauled in this morning.

"Jimmy, oh baby, I was so worried," she was babbling and the police officer stepped back to give them space for a few moments.

His mother backed off just a little, touching his face and hair, "Oh sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

"God, don't you ever do that to me again," she said, pulling him into a hug again.

Part of him wanted to scream it right then and there, exactly what she made him do, exactly why he'd run away like he had, but he was shaking now. She tightened her arms around him, just standing there and holding him, ignoring everyone around him.

"Mrs. Montgomery, can you come with me for a moment?" the officer finally asked. "I have some paperwork for you to fill out."

She looked up, "Sure. Of course."

Leaning down she pressed a quick kiss to Jimmy's forehead and followed the cop away, leaving him standing at the bench alone. He barely glanced after his mother. His eyes, on the other hand, immediately caught on Dennis standing a few steps back in the direction that his mother had come from. He didn't say a word, just started back. He was waiting for Dennis to start screaming at him.

It didn't happen.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dennis told him quietly, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

It took all of Jimmy's concentration not to wince.

"You had your mom really worried, you know that."

"Yeah," Jimmy breathed, "I know."

Neither of them said anything else. Dennis was playing the role of the supportive mom's boyfriend for the police officers, but Jimmy knew, he was positive that he was going to get punished tonight. He just didn't know how.

His mother bent down to his level once again, kissing him on the cheek.

"Let's go home baby," she whispered.

There wasn't anything else that he could do. He walked with them out to the parking lot and climbed into the backseat of Dennis' car. His mother climbed in right next to him and spent almost the entire ride back with her arm around him, just talking. He tuned her out as quickly as he could, pulling his feet up onto the seat and staring past her, out the window.

Not once did she ask him why he had run.

Not once did she mention his father.

Or say she was sorry.

* * *

-

The door opened to the apartment and he just felt something change.

"Go to your room," Dennis said to him, dropping his keys on the table just inside the door.

Jimmy nodded. He took a step and then turned to his mother.

"Mom, I'm so-"

Before he could complete the sentence Dennis' fist caught him hard across the face. His head snapped to the side and he stumbled, falling against the wall. He righted himself quickly, watching out for further attack.

"Your room. NOW!" Dennis roared at him.

Jimmy quickly backed down the hall, turning only after he was out of Dennis' reach. He heard his mother yell.

"What the hell do you think that you're doing? What the fuck are you doing to my-"

"If he had said one word, one word Rita, we could both be in jail. Don't you understand that? If you let that little shit just go running around like you have he's going to run away again. Now that he's learned that he can he's going to figure out how to do it properly. And then the only thing you and I are going to see for a long time is the inside of a jail cell. Is that what you want?"

His mother was quiet for a moment. "No, no of course not. But what the hell do you expect me to do?

Jimmy looked back and his eyes met Dennis. The older man began walking toward his room. He immediately jumped up, slamming the door closed and locking it. He stood there for a moment, listening, waiting until he heard Dennis' disappearing footsteps before he sank back to his bed.

The words were muffled now, and he couldn't hear what they were saying. He raised his hand to his cheek where Dennis had hit him. It stung like a bitch. He kept his hand there, not moving as tears dropped silently down his face. Christ, he just wanted out of here. The question was, where could he go now? His father had been a safe bet before but now it was different. He didn't know where he was, or if he even still cared. What the fuck was he going to do?

* * *

-

It was hours later when there was a knock on the door. Jimmy just stared for a moment, caught off guard.

"Don't make me knock twice," Dennis' voice warned from the other side of the door.

Jimmy jumped up and opened the door to his room. He stepped aside silently as Dennis walked in and placed a plate on the bedside table.

"Eat," Dennis told him. "Then shower, get dressed and get your ass out to that living room. You cost me money last night so tonight we are going to be out there at nine o'clock sharp and you are going to make back what you owe me."

Jimmy winced as the door slammed shut again behind Dennis. He hadn't really thought about eating until the food was there. Now his stomach growled. He reached for the sandwich and took a bite as he opened his closet and dug through to find something to wear.

He felt better after the shower but there was still a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dennis was beyond pissed, and Jimmy knew something was coming.

It was his mother who stepped into his room shortly before nine.

"You listen to Dennis," she told him. All of the compassion that had been in her voice earlier was gone. It was hollow, but not quite cold.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he apologized.

"I know Sweetie," she told him stiffly, "But you've got to understand that you can't do things like that."

"I know." He slipped on his coat, "I won't do it again."

She put a hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving the room.

When he and Dennis pulled up to the sidewalk in his normal spot Jimmy went to get out of the car only to be stopped by a locked door.

"Wait in the car," Dennis told him. He had a cigarette between his lips already and he was looking out the window, expecting someone.

Jimmy sat back, doing his best to relax against the seat.

A blue sedan pulled up across the street. It was nothing out of the ordinary but Dennis watched it closely. The window slowly rolled down halfway.

"That car," Dennis told him.

Jimmy stared for a moment. This wasn't any different than usual. Somehow he had expected more.

He hadn't moved fast enough. Dennis hand shot out and smacked him upside the head.

"Move it, you little shit," he snapped.

Jimmy shoved open the door and climbed out of the car. He hurried quickly across the street to where the car was and climbed nonchalantly into the passenger seat. The guy didn't even look at him, just started driving, pulling down that familiar alley.

He didn't even flinch as the guy reached for him, tugging open his jeans. At least this one didn't want him to go down on him. He shifted in his seat, trying to disconnect his thinking and his body, to just let it happen.

He was caught off guard when he was spoken to.

"Huh?" he replied dumbly.

"I said roll over."

He was caught even more off guard by this than anything that had happened all day. He hesitated and the guy grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, trying to force him to turn.

He jerked his shoulder roughly away.

"I don't do that!" he shouted at the man.

"That's not what your pimp said." There was nothing particularly unkind in the voice, no emotion at all.

But that's when it sank in, when it suddenly hit him.

This was it. His punishment.

"No," he said quietly.

"Roll over, kid," the man said again. "I've already paid for you and I've got no problem being a little rough if you don't comply."

He wanted to fight, to push his way out of the car and run again, but he was too frozen with fear to comply. The trick forced him around, pulling at his clothes and touching him.

He tried to keep his breathing even but cried out loudly in pain as the trick pushed into him from behind. He gripped the seat hard, tears falling down his face for the second time that day as he tried not to scream.

When he climbed out of the car everything hurt. Walking back out to the corner he glanced down at Dennis' car. There was nothing, no signal, so he just stood there, trying to look like he was okay, waiting for the next car to come along.

* * *

A/N: As is probably obvious, school has been absolutely hellish to me this semester. I am really going to try to get another chapter written over my Thanksgiving break and then work on getting as much done over my winter break as possible (though I work about 48 hours a week). I'm also working on a Ben/Michael piece called 'Rooftops' that I'm splitting my free writing time between. Hope you liked the chapter. I'll get to work on more soon.

Leave me some love,

Megan


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